1. Mr Rock & Roll
2. This Is The Life
3. Poison Prince
4. Youth of Today
5. Run
6. Let's Start A Band
7. Barrowland Ballroom
8. L.A.
9. A Wish For Something More
10. Footballer's Wife
11. The Road To Home
The current music scene isn't short of new female
singer-songwriters, which should make it hard for Amy
Macdonald to stand out from the crowd, but she manages
it admirably. In fact, the more times you spin her
debut disc, the more you'll come to love her like the
casual mate who was never top of your party invite
list but who you've gradually come to notice is the
one who's always there when you really need her.
This Is The Life isn't a dramatic record, but
herein lies its charm. Behind the faux Seventies
cover, faux dog-eared around the edges, is a voice
that sounds resignedly worldweary as Macdonald
shimmies through lyrics such as the title track's
chorus question of "where you gonna go/where you gonna
sleep tonight?" and the futile dreams of A Wish For
Something More.
There's an Americana tinge to her melodies that
gives the album a hint of melancholy blues, faintly
reminiscent of Jack White at his most
sentimental (Mr Rock & Roll in particular has
parallels with We're Going To Be Friends), of
Johnny Cash if he'd been a pretty Glaswegian
girl rather than the Man In Black. If you want to look
to UK influences, listen for the ghost of Kirsty
MacColl beneath a voice that's deeper than any
teenager's has a right to be.
There are other bittersweet pop sensibilities
buried here: a past featuring appearances by The
Bluebells (one of the most underappreciated pop
bands of all time, for those of you scratching your
heads and asking "who?"), a desire to make music that
sounds as poetic and romantic as Pete Doherty,
with the same dark, doomed romance he feels hidden
beneath riffs that have been kicked in the gut once
too often. Listen to the creeping doom in those violin
strings beneath the accusation, "Do you know who you
are?/I don't think so/I don't think so" if you need
proof.
This Is The Life is an insanely accomplished album
for a girl barely out of school. The music is rich,
full and dark. The lyrics are infused with a dark
heart that pulls them back from the brink of twee
naivety in such a wonderfully black way that you can't
help but imagine what music she'll be capable of
making when she's older, more jaded and has really had
a her heart broken a few times.
The critics who've slammed her for the simplicity
of lines such as Let's Start A Band's "When there's
nothing left to do/Let's start a band" are missing the
point - taking it too literally and reading the words
without hearing the gut wrenching sadness in the song
behind them. This is about the break-up of The
Libertines, and if you've forgotten how that felt,
there's a song here that will remind you. It felt like
the end of the world, even for those of us who'd been
there at the break-up of special bands time and time
again. Like us, she knows that someone else will rise
to take their place, but eventually they'll fall as
well, won't they? She's putting herself into the
firing line, standing up to be shot down.
It is in this approach that MacDonald's real skill
lies. There's heartbreak in her tunes, but coupled
with a shrug of the shoulders and an attempt to pick
her self up even though life will knock her down
again. She knows this. You know this. Music won't save
the world, but it might just carry you through the
night.